The next chamber is dim, the air thick and suffused with an oppressive quiet. A figure standing with their back resting against the wall. As you step closer, they lift their head and meet your gaze.
"I'm Mel," the figure says, their voice steady but tinged with an unmistakable sorrow. "I am the weight of moments unspoken, the ache of all the times we swallowed our words. Regret is my shadow, and it stretches long behind me."
Mel stands, brushing off their clothes. "Do you know what it’s like to choke on the things you could never say? To feel them knot themselves into your chest, heavier with each passing day? It’s a quiet kind of torment, isn’t it?"
She paces slowly, her voice softening. "But regret is not the end. It’s a teacher. Every word unsaid, every chance missed, they’re not chains. They’re lessons, waiting for you to learn."
She turns back to you, her expression shifting to something almost hopeful. "Seeker, listen to me. Don’t drown in the past. Face it. Learn from it. For it is only in understanding what we left behind that we can truly move forward."